


Oh Glory

by ThrillingDetectiveTales



Series: Heaven Need a Sinner [4]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8339752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillingDetectiveTales/pseuds/ThrillingDetectiveTales
Summary: "How do you want it, querido?" Vasquez asked against Faraday's mouth, voice husky with desire, running his thumbs in long strokes down the lines of Faraday's hips.Faraday considered him for a long moment - mouth swollen and tilting up at the corners, hair mussed, dark eyes warm and soft in the golden light off the fire, the last thin vestiges of daylight coming in through the windows. It made Faraday's chest hurt to look at him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> And now, the sappy, fluffy ending that I wanted to give you all last time but then wound up accidentally cat-fishing you with an emotionally fraught, still kind of fluffy bit instead.
> 
> Seriously, this is much sweeter than I normally write. About as sweet as Faraday ever gets, I would imagine, which is to say he's still kind of an ass.
> 
> This is the last part I have planned for this 'verse, and I really hope it takes us out with a bang rather than, you know. The other thing.
> 
> Title and end lyrics are from 'Wild Horses' by Bishop Briggs, because **greatdisorder** was so so right and all her music gives me so many awful wonderful Faraday/Vasquez feels.
> 
> Enjoy, my loves!

Faraday kicked the door shut behind him with extreme prejudice, the desperate fingers of a bitter February wind chasing him through the narrowing gap, slipping under the collar of his coat.

“It’s colder’n hell out there,” he muttered sourly, shivering and stamping his snow-caked boots against the floor, a little awkward around the small armful of firewood he'd brought in with him.

Vasquez snorted over the top of his book. He was stretched out across a soft, sprawling animal skin on the floor - Faraday thought it might be bear, dark and soft as it was, though he wasn't enough of an outdoorsman to know for certain - with his back against the heavy wooden bed frame. He was wearing his linen tunic, untucked over his dark trousers, long legs extended with his bare feet toward the cheerfully crackling fireplace.

“ _You_ wanted to check on the horses,” he said, unsympathetic.

Faraday made a face, crossing the small room and settling one of the logs gingerly atop the rollicking flame in the hearth, arranging the others to the side for addition later in the evening when the fire dwindled. He shrugged out of his coat and stood for a moment with his palms spread wide, sighing with relief as the heat seeped into his wind-chilled extremities.

The horses were fine, if not best pleased at spending their days piled high with blankets and huddling together under a little wooden lean-to, but they had food enough, water, and each other for warmth.

The weather in the Wyoming territory had taken them both by surprise, sudden and frigid and dangerous. Stumbling across a cabin - recently and hastily abandoned, judging by the dusty but clearly well-loved belongings left behind - during a particularly tempestuous snowfall had been a stroke of the Devil’s own luck. Vasquez - who had grown up in hotter climes than Faraday and been cussed about the cold for days - was so overjoyed that he had grabbed Faraday by the chin and kissed him right there in the snow, leaning over their horses, breath hot and nose cold.

That the cabin had needed only a few minor repairs had been an additional blessing, and for once in his life Faraday – who had never bothered to settle in any one place for more than a week or two at a time, with the exception of waiting out his own healing body in Rose Creek – found himself enjoying the gentle rhythm of a routine.

He woke each morning with a leg thrown over Vasquez’s waist, or with Vasquez pressed up behind him, nose in his hair and breathing in little warm gusts across the back of his neck. They spent their days lazily - reading or talking or sleeping or fucking - enjoying each other's company and waiting out the season. Vasquez was immeasurably better suited to this quiet, simple existence, his proclivities for perpetual motion more an unfortunate side effect of the bounty he carried than a personal preference. Unlike Faraday, who was a vagabond by nature and occasionally got an unholy itch beneath his skin despite his fondness for their current circumstance, pacing the modest length of the cabin and fidgeting until Vasquez got annoyed and took it upon himself to otherwise occupy his attention.

Though he had only been outside for a handful of minutes, he felt like the cold had seeped down to his bones. He shifted his weight, grimacing when his leg gave a twinge of pain. Six months out from their hard-won victory he still walked with a limp, though it wasn’t so noticeable unless the weather was bad, as it had been for the past few weeks.

His shoulder had healed up nicely, not a split second lopped off of his drawing speed that he hadn’t been able to reclaim through practice, and all of his scars faded from angry red to the soft pink of old wounds.

“¿Estás bien, querido?” Vasquez asked, arching an eyebrow.

Faraday nodded, face heating a little the way it always did whenever he recognized any of Vasquez's casual terms of endearment. He didn't have a head for language by any stretch of the imagination, but Vasquez was always sweetly delighted to hear Faraday butcher his mother tongue and so Faraday did his best to pay attention whenever Vasquez took the time to try and teach him something new. Thus far it was mostly foul Mexican oaths - which were much more colorful than Faraday had imagined they would be - and a lot of surprisingly sappy diminutives that Faraday couldn't bring himself to repeat unless he couched them in a heavy layer of bitter humor.

“Just cold,” he assured, digging the heel of his palm into his hip to relieve some of the pressure. Vasquez clicked his tongue and set his book to the side.

“Ven aquí,” he said, beckoning Faraday over and parting his legs. “Come sit with me.”

Faraday snorted and rolled his eyes, amused, but willingly limped over, gratefully accepting the hand that Vasquez offered for support when he came near enough.

Six months ago, he would have balked and prickled at the implication, but that wild, angry part of him had been tempered over the course of many painful days and nights in the interim, spent sweating and whimpering while Vasquez set his strong, gentle fingers to driving the ache out.

He settled himself gingerly on the animal-skin rug between Vasquez’s legs, leaning so that they were pressed together, Vasquez’s chest against his back. Vasquez, who had been sat in front of the fire, reading his stodgy old tome and soaking up heat off the hearth for the better part of the afternoon, was blissfully warm, and Faraday sank back into his waiting arms with a contented sigh.

“Warmer?” Vasquez murmured, hooking his chin over Faraday’s shoulder and rubbing their cheeks together. Faraday hummed.

“Warmer,” he confirmed, letting his eyes fall closed. “What’re you reading?”

“El Idiota,” Vasquez replied, slipping his arms around Faraday’s waist. Faraday could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest, low and soothing. He let his hands rest atop Vasquez’s arms, drumming his fingers in a quick, thoughtful burst.

“What’s it about?”

“A prince,” Vasquez said, running his thumb across Faraday’s hip, his touch warm and comforting even through the thick wool of Faraday’s pants. “And politics. Madness, honesty.” He kissed Faraday’s cheek. “Love.”

“Boring.” Faraday wrinkled his nose in distaste but turned his face into the contact. Vasquez huffed a laugh, breath a hot gust against Faraday's cheek.

“They can’t all be books about treasure and big fish, mijo,” he said, amused.

"Probably read more if they were," Faraday grumbled, shifting obligingly as Vasquez wormed his way under the hem of Faraday's shirt, curving his palm, big and broad and warm, over the low plane of Faraday's stomach.

"Te amo a pasar de su mal gusto, cariño," Vasquez murmured, ducking his head to press a trail of beard-rough kisses along the line of Faraday's throat.

Faraday sighed and tilted his head to offer better access.

"That an insult?" he asked, letting himself sink even further back into Vasquez's embrace.

"Little one," Vasquez rumbled affectionately against his skin, nosing behind his ear.

Faraday huffed a laugh, cock twitching against his thigh as Vasquez slipped his fingers below the waistband of his slacks.

"Figures," he said, shivering a little while Vasquez bit gently at the line of his jaw. He reached a hand up to tangle in the curls at Vasquez's neck, hair longer than usual because they'd been holed up in the godforsaken wilds of Wyoming for weeks now. "You always hate the books I read."

"That's because you read terrible books, mijo," Vasquez said fondly. He curled his palm over Faraday's half-hard cock, giving it a few gentle passes of his hand. He slid his thumb over the head and Faraday sighed, hips bucking. He could feel Vasquez, half-hard against the back of his hip, rocking ever so slightly forward.

"For an outlaw, you have no sense of adventure," he muttered, turning to catch Vasquez's mouth with his own. It was an awkward angle, a little uncomfortable, but eminently worth it for the way that Vasquez groaned into the kiss.

"Five hundred dollar bounty not adventurous enough for you?" he grumbled, smirking against Faraday's mouth.

"I think you're all talk," Faraday replied, teasing. He sat up and tugged Vasquez's hand out from his slacks, twisting around so that he straddled Vasquez's hips, knees out to either side. Vasquez settled one hand on his thigh, the other around his waist, tucked up under the back of his shirt and splayed across his skin.

"Oh?" Vasquez scoffed, grinning and biting at Faraday's lip. "Why is that, mijo?" He rolled his hips up and and Faraday groaned at the friction.

"Ain't ever seen you rob anyone."

"No need to rob anyone," Vasquez said with a shrug. "They paid us well in Rose Creek."

He pulled the collar of Faraday's shirt to the side and sucked a hard, angry mark at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. Faraday moaned and ground down against him.

"Ruinin' my fun with all that sense," he breathed. Vasquez didn't respond beyond sliding his hand below the hem of Faraday's slacks in the back, squeezing and pulling Faraday further into his lap. He leaned up to catch Faraday's mouth, licking past his teeth with long, hot strokes of his tongue.

It astounded Faraday that something so simple as a kiss could light such fierce fire in his blood. They'd traded more kisses than Faraday could have counted even if he'd been of a mind to keep track, and something about the way Vasquez moved, the taste of him, the way he put his whole body to use, still sent bright heat tumbling out to Faraday's fingertips.

They kissed for long, lazy minutes, all the cold driven out of Faraday's bones between the warmth of the fire at his back and the heat of Vasquez beneath him. He got his hands on the lower hem of Vasquez's shirt, pulled away just long enough to tug it off over his head and toss it aside before leaning back in.

Vasquez had both his hands around Faraday's hips, face tilted up while Faraday kissed him over and over, mostly close-mouthed, biting a little because even after six months Faraday hadn't quite figured out how to be nice when it came to showing affection. Vasquez met him at every angle, hissing whenever Faraday bit too hard and gentling the fervor to a low, slow burn.

"How do you want it, querido?" he asked against Faraday's mouth, voice husky with desire, running his thumbs in long strokes down the lines of Faraday's hips.

Faraday considered him for a long moment - mouth swollen and tilting up at the corners, hair mussed, dark eyes warm and soft in the golden light off the fire, the last thin vestiges of daylight coming in through the windows. It made Faraday's chest hurt to look at him. He brought a hand up to Vasquez's face, curling a palm around his cheek, and leaned down to kiss him, slow and gentle and deliberate.

Vasquez sighed into it, dragging a hand down Faraday's thigh and back up. Faraday kissed him again, a soft, lingering press of his mouth, and pulled back just enough to speak, foreheads together and noses brushing.

"Let me take you?"

Vasquez's eyes darkened, eyebrows jumping in surprise.

"¿De veras?" he asked, a little breathless. "You sure, guero?"

Faraday nodded and kissed him again, rolling his hips and swallowing down the wanting, animal noise that the motion pulled up from deep in Vasquez's chest.

"Sí," Vasquez murmured, when they broke apart, "yes, lo que quieras, cariño."

Faraday shrugged his shirt off, shivering with a smirk when Vasquez immediately set to biting a little trail of marks across his bare collarbone.

"Where's the stuff?" he asked, burying a hand in Vasquez's hair. Vasquez kissed his sternum, licked a hot stripe across his nipple, and Faraday whined, rocking his hips forward.

"Fireplace," Vasquez murmured, and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the knot of scar tissue on Faraday's arm, one of several souvenirs from his heroic last ride that Vasquez always made a point to acknowledge in his quiet, reverent way.

"You have this all planned out?" Faraday teased. He nudged at Vasquez's chin with his knuckles, pressing their mouths together the moment Vasquez looked up.

"We've been here awhile," Vasquez said absently into the kiss. His grin turned wolfish at the edges as he added, "And you are easy to read, guero."

Faraday snorted, scoffing, "The _hell_ I am."

"You are," Vasquez assured, wrapping both his arms around Faraday's waist and drawing him closer. "You hate the cold. Every time you go out, come back in," he trailed his teeth along Faraday's throat, taking great joy in worrying the skin until it turned pink, "want to be close to get warm again." He rocked his hips up, the hard line of him through his slacks catching and dragging against Faraday. "Except you like to touch, to be touched. So you get close, I touch," he continued and rolled his hips again, smirking smugly when Faraday keened and swore under his breath at the friction, "and then we are here. Every time. _Easy_."

Faraday glared, face hot and embarrassed, want burning in his belly. He swallowed hard, mouth opening and closing with a huff as he searched for something to say, some cutting remark to defend himself, but Vasquez didn't let him get that far. He huffed a little laugh and pulled Faraday down by the back of the neck, kissing him slow and sweet, other arm still tucked snugly around his waist.

"Tan sensible, mijo," he murmured gently, apologetic, and kissed Faraday again. "I _like_ easy." He grinned, rumbling against Faraday's mouth. "More fun than fighting all the time, no?"

Faraday glared but let himself relax under the slow, soothing strokes of Vasquez's hands, leaning into the kiss. After a long moment, hips rocking slowly together, Vasquez's broad palms absently mapping the bare expanse of his skin, Faraday sighed and settled back.

"Get these off," he grumbled, tugging at the hem of Vasquez's slacks and pushing himself to his feet.

By the time that Faraday had retrieved the little jar of salve off the hearth - set near the flame to warm and nicely softened though it was still cool to the touch - and shucked off his remaining clothes, Vasquez had neatly divested himself of his pants and was watching Faraday from the floor. He'd shifted over so that he was laid out across the animal skin, the whole lean line of him on display, strong and sleek with his cock flushed and curved up against his belly. He let his eyes wander lazily up and down Faraday's body, dark and hungry, and grinned.

"Eres tan hermoso, cariño," he said, husky and low.

Faraday swallowed, thick, stepping forward and kneeling down.

"Don't know what that one means," he murmured, setting the jar to one side and nudging Vasquez's legs a little wider as he settled between them.

"It's good," Vasquez assured. Faraday snorted, curling a palm around Vasquez's thigh and leaning in to press a kiss to his hip.

"It oughta be," he teased, "considering what we're doing."

"All you're doing is talking, guerito," Vasquez grinned, bumping a knee against his side.

"Well," Faraday drawled, licking his palm and wrapping it around Vasquez's cock. Vasquez sucked a satisfying little breath through his teeth. "How about I do this instead?"

He took the head of Vasquez's cock into his mouth, familiar salty musk bursting across his tongue. Above him, Vasquez moaned, reaching down to slide his fingers into Faraday's hair, broad palm cupping the back of his head.

"Much better," Vasquez muttered, groaning when Faraday took him further down. He pushed his hips carefully into it - a gentle, insistent pressure that sent a bolt of want flaring, white hot, to Faraday's gut.

He swallowed convulsively, breathing hard through his nose, and moaned when his lips brushed his knuckles. Vasquez swore, cock twitching, and pulled back a little, rocking his hips, fucking Faraday's mouth in shallow, gentle thrusts.

" _Guero_ ," Vasquez breathed, voice deep and gritty and strained with want.

Faraday was half-tempted to abandon his plans, let himself fall to pieces here, with Vasquez hot on his tongue, holding him in place until his jaw ached. Instead, he twisted his wrist, bobbing down once more before he pulled off. Vasquez sighed and let his hand fall to the side.

"You're getting better at that," he said with a grin, dark eyes glinting with amusement. In lieu of a response, Faraday bit meanly at his thigh, just hard enough to sting. Vasquez hissed a breath and laughed, the sound melting into a groan halfway through when Faraday worked his cock with a rough hand, spit-slick and a little harder than Vasquez usually liked.

"Ay, chingado, guero," he moaned, bucking up into it. "Not going to last if you keep that up."

"Better keep your mouth shut, then," Faraday said cheerfully, dropping a kiss to Vasquez's hip and giving his cock one last, vicious pull.

"Mandón," Vasquez muttered with a groan, clicking his tongue while Faraday set about uncapping the jar of salve. He scooped a generous portion onto his fingers, working it in his hand to warm it up. It was slick and slippery and viscous, pale like butter, without much of a smell to it. He wasn't sure where Vasquez had gotten it from, but he wasn't about to complain, as it had greased the way for their more intimate exploits quite nicely on more than one occasion.

"Just 'cause I can't understand it don't mean I can't hear it," Faraday reprimanded absently, kneeling between Vasquez's legs and rutting his cock along the line of Vasquez's thigh.

"Jódete," Vasquez rumbled darkly, and Faraday snorted.

He'd heard that one before, and though he wasn't quite sure what it meant, he knew that it wasn't especially kind. He winked at Vasquez and grinned wide, dragging a slick finger along the cleft of his ass.

"Settle down now, sweetheart," he cooed soothingly. Vasquez glowered up at him, head falling back against the plush fur when Faraday slipped his finger in up to the first knuckle.

It was always a bit of a head-rush, watching Vasquez - eminently capable, stalwart and steady for all that he shared Faraday's love for excitement - come apart under his hands. He fell into it differently than Faraday, sinking slowly, a steady rise of heat through his body while Faraday worked him open, face flushing sweetly and swearing to himself under his breath. It wasn't something that Faraday asked for often, frequently lacking the patience to make it worth both their time, but when he did, it felt like a gift.

He slipped a second finger in alongside the first, curling them gently, searching. Vasquez rocked his hips back and moaned, loud like it was punched out of him. He was beautiful, laid out in front of Faraday like an offering, awash in the glow from the fireplace. Faraday added a third finger and Vasquez fell back against the rug, panting with his eyes closed, the long, lean line of his neck on display.

He worked Vasquez open for a long moment, enthralled by the strong, sleek curvature of his body as he moaned and writhed, want burning low in his belly.

Mouth dry, Faraday withdrew his fingers, murmuring gentle nonsensical apologies as he slicked the length of his cock with salve. He lined himself up and pressed carefully forward, watching, half-awed, and groaning deep in his chest as he sank into the slick, tight heat of Vasquez's body.

"Ah, maldito," Vasquez gasped, canting his hips and wrapping one leg around Faraday's thigh, drawing him in closer, faster. Faraday bottomed out with a gasp, folding forward over Vasquez like he couldn't keep himself up, palms spread out flat on the floor on either side of Vasquez's broad shoulders.

"Fuck," he groaned, catching Vasquez's mouth in a wild, messy kiss. Vasquez reached up to tangle his fingers in the short hair at the nape of Faraday's neck, pulling a little and biting at his mouth.

"Muévete, guero," he growled, rocking his hips.

For once in his life, Faraday did as he was told, pulling out a little more than halfway, slow and deliberate, and then rolling his hips forward and sinking back in. Vasquez whimpered a little, body clenching sweetly around him, and the burning embers of want washed over Faraday in a heady white mist.

" _Goddamn_ ," he murmured with a groan, dragging his mouth along Vasquez's neck. "You feel good."

"You too," Vasquez said, breathless. Faraday rolled his hips again, slowly in and out, pushing a little harder, a little deeper when he was seated flush. Vasquez let his head fall back with a groan, tilting his hips up into it, both his legs slung low around Faraday's hips.

"Fuck," Faraday sighed, rolling his hips again in the same slow slide, enraptured by Vasquez's face as the motion pulled another desperate little noise out of him. He felt giddy, dizzy, like he'd dived into a bottle of whiskey and sunk straight down to the bottom. "Fuck, darlin', you're so beautiful."

He was babbling, he knew. He always did whenever they fucked this way, words spilling out of him in a fountain he was only barely aware of, like the toe-curling pleasure of having Vasquez laid out in front of him, warm around him, brought every half-formed thought that Faraday had ever had bubbling to the surface without his consent.

"It makes you honest," Vasquez had said once, sly and well-fucked, hair a messy halo as he grinned down at a totally overcome Faraday, gasping against the mattress.

Now, he just huffed a breath, mouth tilting up at the corners, and leaned up to pull Faraday into a warm, lazy kiss.

Faraday moaned into it and drew his hips back again. They rocked together that way for long, languorous minutes, all smooth, slow strokes and gentle kisses, air thick with the redolent musk of sex and the rich tang of woodsmoke, Faraday murmuring nonsense with every tiny jolt of his hips.

He felt full to bursting - the strange, heady affection that Vasquez kindled in him sparking and catching his whole body aflame.

"Fuck," he breathed against Vasquez's collarbone, "you're so good for me, sweetheart. _So good,_ God." He bit at the line of Vasquez's jaw and Vasquez whined low. "I love you, love you _so much_ \- "

Vasquez made a little gasping noise in the back of his throat and tugged at Faraday's hair on the painful side of too hard, pulling him down into a fierce, desperate kiss. Faraday sank down into it, gasping and moaning, drowning under the tidal wave of Vasquez's sudden, vicious affection.

"Te amo a tí también, guero," Vasquez gasped, biting brutally at his lip. "Te amo mucho a tí."

It was all just a rush of noise, any words that Faraday might have been able to pick out lost under the speed, the thick, slurred edge of Vasquez's accent when he was so close to spending. Faraday bit him back, snapping his hips forward a little harder, and Vasquez groaned, grinning against his mouth.

"Move," he snarled, pulling at Faraday's hair again, biting harder, a sharp, stinging kiss. "¡Ándale!"

Faraday rocked back and drove his hips home with enough force that Vasquez inched ever so slightly up the rug. He had both his hands in Faraday's hair, kissing messy and open-mouthed, gasping and alive like a wild thing. Every sound he made dropped like a hot coal into the inferno of Faraday's belly, ratcheting the temperature up degree by degree, burning under his skin.

He held himself up on one arm, whole body shaking, and wrapped his other hand around the velvet heat of Vasquez's cock where it was leaking against his belly. He gave it a few hard, quick strokes, and Vasquez spilled hot and slick between them with a groan, body clenching around Faraday.

"Fuck," he moaned, dropping his forehead to Vasquez's shoulder, " _fuck_ I'm gonna, sweetheart, I'm - "

"Te tengo a tí, amor," Vasquez gasped, still catching his breath, and pressed a sloppy kiss to Faraday's temple. "Suéltalo."

Faraday knew that one, had heard it often enough to be familiar with the shape of it if not the specific meaning, so he rocked his hips forward again in a few short, desperate thrusts and spent with a groan. He let himself collapse forward, closing his eyes and sprawling his body weight out over top of Vasquez, who grunted his affront but gamely reached up to run his fingers through Faraday's hair nonetheless.

They laid there for a few long seconds, breathing harsh and sharp against each other. Vasquez was threading his fingers absently through Faraday's hair again and again, sighing sweet and contented every once in awhile, dropping the occasional kiss to Faraday's cheek or his forehead. He was maybe being a little more affectionate than usual, although Vasquez had always been fonder of basking in the afterglow than Faraday himself. The sixth time in as many minutes that Vasquez pressed a little, elated kiss right between his eyes, Faraday huffed an irritated sigh and cracked his eyes open to glare.

"Would you quit?" he grumbled. Vasquez grinned at him and shook his head.

"Not a chance, guerito."

Faraday frowned, confused.

"Why not?"

"Because," Vasquez said smugly, nuzzling obnoxiously at Faraday's temple, "you _love_ me."

"You - I - what!?" Faraday's face went hot, stomach rolling sickly. He tried to scrabble to his feet, grimacing and pulling out as carefully as he was able considering the circumstances, only to have Vasquez lock his legs around Faraday's waist and use his momentum to flip them both over, handily pinning Faraday to the rug.

"Ah, ah, ah," Vasquez chided gently, wrapping his hands around Faraday's wrists and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You said it yourself." He grinned, wide and insufferably smug, and leaned in so their noses brushed. "You love me."

"I do not," Faraday muttered darkly. Vasquez clicked his tongue and kissed Faraday again, the lush warmth of his mouth driving a little of the tension out of Faraday's body despite his best efforts to hold fast.

"You do," Vasquez assured. He let go of one of Faraday's wrists and brought his palm up to cup Faraday's cheek, thumb running in soft, fond strokes along the line of his jaw. "I love you, too, if it helps," he said gently, and something in Faraday's chest cracked and broke open.

He swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat, asking in a much smaller voice than he had hoped to muster, "You do?"

Vasquez made a sad, disbelieving face and shook his head a little. He sighed through his nose and flashed a fond, long-suffering smile.

"I do," he promised, leaning in to press another kiss to Faraday's mouth. "Don't know why, though." He tapped a finger gently against Faraday's forehead. "Clearly you are not so smart."

Faraday laughed, startled, and wagged his eyebrows.

"Must be my devastating good looks," he suggested. Vasquez snorted.

"Sure," he agreed with the ease of a man not bothering to pretend he wasn't lying, and leaned down to kiss Faraday again. They kissed slow and easy, grinning giddily into one another's mouths, until the sweat cooling all along Faraday's body licked a shiver up his spine.

"Cold?" Vasquez murmured curiously, from where he was nosing at the soft skin just below Faraday's ear.

"Unshucked on the floor in the middle of February," Faraday replied as though it should be obvious. Vasquez grumbled something unintelligible and sat up to tug one of the blankets off the bed.

He laid back against the rug, nudging Faraday until they were sprawled out alongside one another - Vasquez on his back with Faraday's head on his chest, one of Faraday's arms thrown across his waist and one of his around Faraday's back, both their legs tangled together beneath the blanket. Faraday sighed, the hazy drowsiness that always followed after sex settling over him like a fog, made thicker and heavier by having Vasquez warm and solid beneath him.

Vasquez ran his fingertips up and down Faraday's side, his back, across his shoulders, occasionally huffing little, private puffs of laughter to himself.

"'S so funny?" Faraday asked, tongue muzzy and thick.

"Not funny," Vasquez corrected absently, shifting beneath him and pressing a kiss against his hair. "Just happy."

Faraday grunted and blinked hazily up at Vasquez, eyes narrow and considering.

"I ain't sayin' it again," he warned. Vasquez grinned at him.

"Never?" he asked, arching a playful eyebrow.

"Never," Faraday confirmed with a smirk. His whole body shifted as Vasquez shrugged beneath him.

"I'll just have to say it to you, then."

"In English or Mexican?" Faraday pressed, teasing. Vasquez tensed a little, dragging his fingertips down Faraday's side.

"Which do you prefer?" he asked. He was smiling, but the levity to his tone was brittle, forced. Faraday leaned up onto his elbow, peering curiously at Vasquez, whose cheeks went uncharacteristically pink under the attention. The gambler in Faraday perked up, prickling under his skin and urging him to call the bluff. He put his head to one side, thoughtful.

"Say it in Spanish."

Vasquez shifted, sheepish and embarrassed though his eyes were bright, mouth quirked in a grin. He licked his lips.

"Te amo."

Faraday stared at him, agape.

"Tay ah-mow?" he repeated, incredulous. " _Really_?"

Vasquez's grin widened, caught out but not the least bit guilty. Faraday laughed, shocked and somehow not at all surprised at the same time, and surged up to kiss him, hard, growling against his mouth, "You _bastard_! Y'been sayin' that since Rose Creek!"

Vasquez slipped both his arms around Faraday's waist, drawing him in close.

"I told you you weren't so smart, guerito," he teased, grinning as Faraday kissed him again and again, just this side of mean.

"You're a real son of a bitch, you know that?" Faraday grumbled after a few long moments, settled back down against Vasquez's chest. Vasquez snorted and ran his hand through Faraday's hair.

"I'm sure you will tell me about it at great length," Vasquez said, long-suffering and affectionate. Faraday huffed.

"Damn right I will," he grumbled, sighing and closing his eyes. "Every day, from now 'til forever."

He rocked back and forth on the gentle wave of Vasquez's chest rising and falling beneath him, the slow, distant crackle of the fire as night pressed in close to the little cabin.

"Hey," he murmured after awhile, voice husky, teetering on the edge of sleep. "Tay ah-mow."

Vasquez made a little, pleased noise and tightened his arms around Faraday's shoulders, dropping a warm, gentle kiss to the top of his head.

"Yo se," he breathed quietly into the still night. "I love you, too." 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

  

 

 

_So I'll keep on damning the Devil,_

_And you'll keep on saying it's all right._

_Oh glory, I'm a believer._

_Oh Lord, I'm holding tight._

**Author's Note:**

> Translation time!
> 
> As per usual, Spanish is my second language that I haven't used in years and years so there will likely be mistakes. Also typos! Please feel free to correct me if you see any, and accept my humblest of apologies! <3
> 
>  **¿Estás bien, querido?:** Are you okay, dearest?  
>  **Ven aquí:** Come here  
>  **El Idiota:** The Idiot - referring to the Dostoevsky title, because for some reason I feel like Vasquez would read really pretentious novels  
>  **Te amo a pasar de su mal gusto:** I love you despite your poor taste (referring to the book about big fish and treasure that Faraday likes which is, surprise surprise, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea)  
>  **Cariño:** roughly equivalent to calling someone "honey"  
>  **¿De veras?:** Really?  
>  **Lo que quieras:** Whatever you want  
>  **Tan sensible:** So sensitive  
>  **Eres tan hermoso:** You're so beautiful  
>  **Chingado:** Fuck  
>  **Mandón:** Bossy  
>  **Jódete:** Fuck you  
>  **Maldito** : Damn  
>  **Muévete:** Move  
>  **Te amo a tí también:** I love you too  
>  **Te amo mucho a tí:** I love you so much  
>  **¡Ándale!:** Come on!  
>  **Te tengo a tí, amor:** I've got you, love  
>  **Suéltalo:** Let go  
>  **Te amo:** I love you  
>  **Yo se:** I know
> 
> I did some more - albeit very minimal - research for this one. Both 'The Idiot' and '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea' would have been published by this time, but I will admit to not even taking a bare glance at U.S. book distribution, so the boys having access to either could be totally implausible. Additionally, there is a decent possibility they would have had access to Vaseline, by what I'm assuming is February 1880, though again, could be leas plausible than I imagine. Also, Wyoming was still a territory and not a state! I have never been there and know literally nothing about it other than that it seems like it gets colder in February than I ever want to be in my life, thanks.
> 
> <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Oh Glory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493946) by [MistMarauder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistMarauder/pseuds/MistMarauder)




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